he ran

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He ran.

At his back, he heard the laughter of his pursuers, the howl of the dogs. His powers were useless against their noses.

"Little spider, little spider," called his tormenter. "Where will you weave your web?"

Around him the grasslands opened up like a splayed palm. Shrubs reached out their branches to drag at his clothes, and logs waited in the long grass to make him fall.

Horse, hart and hound. He the hart, fleeing.

Pain in his shoulder. He had broken off the shaft of the arrow, but the head was still buried in his flesh.

He ran.

* * *


This story has a trigger warning for references to physical and sexual abuse. If this is something that may be uncomfortable or harmful for you, please don't read on.

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